I’m sorry that I haven’t treated you well over the last 4 years, you’ve been exceptionally reliable and comfortable, yet I haven’t looked after you the way I should have.

You are the only boots that I choose when I leave the house. When wellingtons are a bit excessive or I have to walk for miles at indoor and outdoor events, I reach for you. If I have to go shopping with Muddy Madam, I reach for you. If I need to bring the milk in and it’s raining out, you guessed it, I reach for you. If I'm on the side of a hill taking photos of 4x4s, it’s your deep cleats and flexible soles that somehow keep me upright and prevent me from falling.

I’ve walked in the sea, in puddles and you’ve been submerged in deep mud, but you’ve always kept my feet warm and dry, even after all this abuse.

You’ve been literally covered in dried mud for weeks on end, only to get banged against a wall to loosen the mud off, then submerged in lukewarm water and cleaned with a brush then left in the kitchen to dry.

Remember that cold and frosty January when I forgot that I’d left outside? Yeah, sorry about that.

Last week you didn’t fail me when I got the Jeep Wrangler hopelessly stuck in mud. As I wandered around looking for rocks and branches to place under the flailing tyres, you again kept me dry and upright. Thank you.

How is that possible by the way, I’ve worn you pretty much every week for 4 years and your tread shows no sign of wearing out, yet your sole is so flexible and squishy!

I really don’t deserve you.

So again, I’ll fill a bucket with lukewarm water and give you another soak to make you look respectable again, and as an appreciation, I might even treat you and buy some wax...